


Ardent

by BountyHuntress16



Series: Daughter of Gelmorra [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Duskwight Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Elezen Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Everyone is Queer, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Past Thancred Waters/Warrior of Light, Patch 3.0: Heavensward Spoilers, Polyamorous Character, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BountyHuntress16/pseuds/BountyHuntress16
Summary: Nerys and her new Chocobo learn how to fly in the Western Highlands. Haurchefant is all too willing to help.Neither expected the blizzard to hit, but it may be just what they needed.
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Series: Daughter of Gelmorra [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956604
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Ardent

Nerys doesn’t mind the cold.

Granted, the brief winters in the Twelveswood were never like this. She might emerge from the safety of The Cavern and find powdery snow sparkling across the grass. It was always gone by midday, leaving just the chill wind.

One year–only one–it stayed awhile, piling to at least three or four ilms. She had been 10? 11? Young enough to want to pack it into snowballs and chuck them at the other children. Old enough to be scolded for shirking her duties. 

The cold stinging her face is new but not unbearable. Haurchefant had bundled her in Fortemps winter armor that morning, his nimble fingers adjusting the goggle straps and the many buttons. His lips had twitched with unspoken teasing, his eyes dancing with all the insinuations he might have made if they weren't in his Father's house with his Father not a few paces away.

"The next is 416 yalms northwest," Haurchefant says now. His Chocobo–jet-feathered like the one he gifted Nerys–cranes her neck towards the source of his voice. He mirrors the gesture to look back at her. The bird chirps her affection. “Are you ready?”

Nerys nods. "How many do we have left?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't say, only if there are aether currents and where best to find them." He shrugs. "Would that someone would design an improved model. This is the same configuration of device I used when I was a boy."

"How old were you when you rode your first Chocobo?" She hadn't ridden so much as a pony before she began adventuring. Wagons and carts yes, but most long journeys were accomplished on foot. At least she’d had a few practice attempts with the porter birds before she earned a Chocobo of her own.

Minako was likely sulking in the Ishgard stables now, knowing Nerys was out riding another Chocobo. She feared the bird would have some nips for her when she returned.

"Oh about eight or so, when I took on pageboy duties. You will not credit how adorable I was."

The thick neck gaiter, goggles, and high collar of the padded surcoat hide her smile. He smiles back though, as if he knows what expression she has. (He is considerably less bundled than she, used to the highland climes.) "There is a portrait of me about that age. You may even find it somewhere at the Manor."

"I will seek it out, just for you."

"No, no, not for me but for your own edification." He clicks his tongue and his Chocobo gallops off, her mount taking the cue to follow. 

Her thighs and calves are starting to burn. She thought she had become used to long hours in the saddle but the highland terrain is like nothing she’s experienced before. Everything is organized vertically as well as horizontally. The compass might take them to a point on the map but they have to follow a winding trail down to a basin or up one of many hills. 

Sometimes this means dismounting and balancing along narrow ledges, hugging against slippery ice-covered cliff faces. The Chocobos are well-trained enough to know what to do. It doesn’t erase the trepidation as they eke along.

It doesn’t matter if the cold bothers her or not. She’s worked up a fine sweat anyway from riding, climbing, and walking. And there are the monsters, of course.

The goal of this trip is to teach her new Chocobo the aether currents he needs to fly. For once Nerys doesn't need to fetch or slay or harvest or scout. It’s...uncomfortable? Her role is to be the one who aids and a trip focused on her needs feels odd. Easier to tell herself the jaunt is to please Haurchefant and her job is to defend him when they're attacked.

That he seems hellbent on putting himself between her and danger complicates that.

“Another one!” he declares, swinging from his mount in one practiced motion. The Chocobo knows its orders and falls back, beating her wings either in panic or to scare off the gelatinous mound rushing her master. 

The last few Haurchefant had dispatched while mounted, a striking figure straight from the chivalric tales filling his family’s library. This one though ( _Gelato, some cruel person dubbed them Gelatos)_ is just as liable to engulf the Chocobos’ legs during such an attack.

Smart of him to go on foot except that he is drawing all the monster’s ire towards him, away from her. The Gelato undulates at him, its body forming large flat hands out of its viscous form. The sucking, popping noise of the appendages overshadows the chirps of the Chocobo, the crunch of snow under foot, the harsh roar of the wind. 

Nerys circles it as she hefts her lance into position. Catching its ire and focus, making it glower at her. As soon as it looks ready to move she can stun it with a well-timed kick, upsetting its equilibrium. She readies herself-

"Right here!" Haurchefant calls and the beast swivels towards him with a pulling, squishing sound. It heaves its glistening bulk at him, batting against sword and shield. Begins to glow faint with magic.

Nerys takes the shot. Her foot connects with the back of its...neck? Head? Upper body? And it halts mid-action, unable to make itself move, tipping forward. 

She follows it up with cruel, efficient strikes with her lance. This one charged them unprovoked. She wants to finish things before its brethren come along and have an actual reason to attack.

It falls in a moaning heap before the wriggling mess of flesh subsides into shudders and then nothing. Her gaze snaps up to Haurchefant, checking for any sign of injury.

She finds a man, perfectly fine, and inspecting her with the same level of intensity she feels in herself.

"I always knew I would enjoy combat at your side." He steps over to her, around the fallen Gelato. His sword slides back into his sheath with a whisper of metal on hard leather. "Though it seems our mounts would rather not be involved.”

The Black Chocobos huddle away from the carnage, regarding them with hooded eyes. Nerys suspects it wasn’t fear driving his bird’s actions but a clear statement _Keep This Away From Me._ The breed is hearty and powerful so she suspects it’s less aptitude then temperament. Another difference from her Minako, born and bred for combat by the Serpents, eager to fight at Nerys' side. 

Snow crunches underfoot as she approaches them, making soft coaxing sounds. More is falling again, the flakes growing fat and heavy on her clothes and the Chocobo’s feathers. She soothes hers (he will need a name soon), stroking the feathers above his orange beak and murmuring endearments. No one had instructed her if that was the way but it seemed to help. It had with the Wood Wallers’ hunting dogs all those years ago. Lower stakes, of course.

His words float about her mind and she fixes him a glance. “Always wondered? Do you mean when you wanted to join the battle against Lady Iceheart?”

"That was part of it. And certainly I had a taste of having your back when you saved Francel." He lifts his hands. "But this is more what I imagined. You and I against the world, so to speak."

That is...close to the situation she found herself in when they arrived at his doorstep. Grieving and in shock, seeking out the one person left who might take them in. Fearing that he wouldn’t be able to justify the danger to his people. Feeling guilty she ever doubted him when he hurried them inside and made them cocoa. 

Again she says nothing, her face is hidden...and he still knows. She feels his mood shift and stir the air like the growing winds. “My apologies, dear friend. I did not mean to revive such memories.”

"I know,” says Nerys. "I know your heart and you didn't mean it that way. I'm glad to grant its desire today with this trip."

He makes a strangled noise and steps closer to her and the mounts. His long fingers brush over the tangled reins and her hand. "What do you know of my heart?"

Nerys is struck by the urge to close her fingers about his. Such impulses have plagued her more and more. “I know-”

The constant winds turn malicious then, slicing through with a great howl. Snowfall seems to quadruple about them in an instant, cloaking the world about them like a thick ivory blanket.

"We should seek shelter," he says, guiding her hands to her reins and pulling his away. 

"Will this pass soon?"

Haurchefant looks to the skies. "Hard to say. It might, it might go like this for hours. I would not risk you by guessing."

It's something he might say at any time, so effusive about his regard for her. This time it sparks something else in her–wonder if his teasing and kindness are rooted in the same places hers have taken hold in.

"We'll make for The Convictory." He mounts his Chocobo in one fluid motion. "Are you ready?"

She nods. "To the Convictory."

* * *

They do not make it to The Convictory. 

The wind and snow cut them, pushing them two steps back for every one they take. Their world is a curtain of white and they don’t dare go fast. Not when the terrain so quickly changes from plain to ditch to cliff face, the thick snow hiding ice patches until they’re upon them. 

If it had been her alone, Nerys would have soldiered on foot. But the Chocobos are upset and she doesn't want Haurchefant sickened or injured. Anything–an overhang, a cave, a boulder–she will take for shelter and to get their bearings.

"Miracle of miracles!" Haurchefant's exclamation is just audible above the scream of the wind. Before them is a wall, invisible moments ago. This wall is connected to another wall, to another where they find a solid oak door a quarter buried in the snow.

Nerys jumps down from her mount and bangs three times on the door in quick succession. After a minute she does so again. There is no light through a window or sounds of someone behind the door.

Her hand finds the handle and she turns it, the door swinging open beneath her half-frozen hands. A long dark room lays inside. A stable. So similar to the building where the heretics ambushed her that she jerks back into Haurchefant’s solid warmth.

“Alright?” He murmurs, lips near her ear. 

“...Alright." The locations don't match up, unless they are wildly off course. And still she says, handing her reins to him, "Stay up here, be ready to run at my signal. I'll sweep the place."

Haurchefant nods after a moment, reluctance clear in the motion. She pulls her lance off her back, dusting off the snow. Nothing to be done for the faint coating of ice. Her forays into the Arcanist and Conjurer Guilds had yielded little fruit and nothing of fire. 

"Allow me," he murmurs, holding a hand over it. She doesn’t feel any warmth emanating but it must be subtle work because ice melts away from the metal.

Nerys looks up at him (so rare that she meets someone taller than her), nods, and begins her sweep. The building layout is so much like the Heretic's Lair that she braces herself for statues and tapestries and an altar below. Instead she finds an open (empty) chest, a set of table and chairs, and a large bed with one threadbare blanket. 

Her hands pass over the walls in search of hidden passages, anywhere someone might be lying in wait. She finds a small pantry with a dead mouse in a bag of grain. If someone is returning here, they will have to wait out the storm. But the thin layer of dust speaks to a place long abandoned.

"All clear?" Haurchefant whispers when she emerges. At her nod he resumes normal volume. "Then let's tend to these two before anything else. They are a hearty breed but that doesn't mean we shouldn't thank them for braving such weather."

With the trepidation calmed, she starts to feel the strain in her legs as they move about the stables. Not nearly as bad as it might have been at the start of her Adventuring career. That seems lifetimes ago. It isn't just that she traveled across Eorzea on Chocobo. Training under Ywain and then Alberic meant learning to leap and run even when she’s depleted. 

_Every time we come together, your thighs are even lovelier._ Thancred had said, and said often, usually right before pressing his mouth between them.

The memory hits like an unexpected blow and she rests a hand against the stable wall as the aftershocks stutter through. It's always like this. Going about her day, not seeing the trip wires all around her until it’s gone off like a Kobold’s explosives. With all their lost friends but Thancred more than any. 

He’d tease her if he saw her alone now with Haurchefant with her pining. Thancred had teased then, as soon as Alphinaud spoke of how much the knight regarded her. His gaze had snapped to her blue-gray cheeks, to the faint stain there. 

_When do I get to meet this knight courting you?_ He had asked later, holding himself over her, her arms about his neck. No apparent jealousy under his smirk–they’d had an agreement about sharing other beds as they pleased. 

_Courting is a strong word. I think he's effusive._

_Mm._ Thancred had fit his lips to her neck. _Who wouldn't be, where you are concerned?_

She'd hit his arm lightly and then they had slipped into the place they communicated best, no words, just touch and breath and heat. 

“Nerys?”

She jerks at the sound and finds Haurchefant in her mount's stall, his eyes scanning her face.

"My apologies," she said. "What were you saying?"

"I've some rations in my saddlebags. Was there a fireplace below?"

"Mm. I didn't see any obstructions when I searched the flue." At his look she gives a little shrug. "I was ambushed in a building almost exactly like this one. So I wanted to make sure no one was hiding..."

"Ah. Never fear, this is a common building layout out here. People want to heat both stable and home in one building. But for your sake, I will also check the flue."

The tasks are a welcome distraction and they work in quiet, walking up and down the stairs as they gather snow to melt and search for any useful items among the bare house. Nerys slips out the small skillet she keeps with her, boiling water for tea and to turn dried meat into a more stew-like concoction. 

"I am debating," says Haurchefant. He sips their tea out of the thermos he brought along. "Is it worth it to clean up and settle in or should we expect to leave here soon?"

Nerys shakes the skillet, loosening the concoction and tossing the rehydrating meat in its own juices. "I'm not as used to this kind of weather. I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Nature is fickle, I try not to predict it because it always defies expectations." He spreads his arms wide and gives a theatrical shrug. "It's not quite the accommodations I would offer our family's honored guest but…"

But it's nearing dusk and they've spent a long day traveling about. Better to assume they'll be stuck here for the night. "Then after we eat I'll scrub the pan and we can melt water to clean up some. I didn’t see any type of bath or basin."

"Nor I. The former tenant was a minimalistic sort of fellow." He picks up the blanket on the bed, rubbing the thin material between two fingers. "Between us there is probably a bedroll or another blanket to be had?"

"We’ll pile them all on. At least the bed is big enough for two." He looks a little startled at that and she realises he planned on taking the floor. For all his sly looks and flirtatious jokes...Haurchefant would sleep with the Chocobos if she asked.

Nerys doesn’t want to ask. Her mouth goes dry and cottony, stripping away all moisture as if afraid she’ll otherwise banish him upstairs. Her throat clicks.

He recovers first. "It will conserve body heat."

"I may be your honored guest but the least I can do is preserve your back. It would ache in the morning otherwise." She turns back to the fire and the heat in her face has nothing to do with it. 

"That's what I hope but my usual dress probably obscures its best qualities.You don’t realise what wonders you’re preserving."

She snorts. "I'm surprised I've only ever seen you in armor then, and not training like your men do. How will we know otherwise?"

"The perils of a commander's post. I am too often confined to a desk and can only train scantily clad at odd hours.”

Nerys grins. The nervous tension in her fades away. "Okay this is as done as it will get. Get your spoon ready."

She lets the skillet cool some before placing it on the table. Nothing resembling a trivet or even a dish rag here. She had to grip the handle while wearing her gloves and bracers. Once it’s set upon the table she peels them off along with the rest of her borrowed armor. She's again amazed that it fits so well but she is Elezen after all, if a different clan. And no place knows how to equip a Dragoon like Ishgard.

 _Spoke too soon._ She’s fumbling with one of the unfamiliar straps, twisting her face into a scowl. Haurchefant is at her side at once, easing and unbundling. Their fingers tangle.

"You should eat your share before it gets cold."

"Not without you, my dear." He dips to one knee to undo another strap, the teasing light back in his eyes. No Father to check him this time but he still doesn’t give voice to the innuendo.

 _My dear. Not "my dear friend." My dear._ She hurries out of the armor, away from the implications. Her violet and white curls hang damp with melted snow and sweat against her bared neck, her tunic and leggings similarly clammy. If she sits by the fire for a while it should be alright. 

"Now, let us partake," he says, sitting back down and digging his spoon into the stew. Flecks of pepper from her limited supplies decorate the dark brown sauce. "You say you're not used to this weather?"

The thread might as well be a lifeline while she's at sea. She hauls herself in, away from the image of him on his knees before her. "I grew up in the Twelveswood. Our winters were...are mild."

"No snow?"

“Scant snow. At worst we had nasty drafts in The Cavern and we had to all make barricades to keep the warmth in." At his inquisitive look she is reminded of how removed Ishgard Elezen are from their Gridanian brethren, even more so from the Duskwight clans. "My childhood clan, we lived in a network of caves in the Twelveswood. Our ancestors carved spaces out of the rock and stone and we added our own accommodations."

"You were always in a cave?" His eyes are wide.

"No no not always. We had to go out and gather or fish and the adults had to earn money if they were able to." Only a few though. Too many people were quick to distrust the Duskwight, especially when she was growing up. People now seem a little better, though still prone to ignorant remarks. "The clan I grew up in, it was a group of adults looking to one day return to Gelmorra and bring back its old glory. The Cavern was a practice run."

“A community formed for lofty ideals...your parents were always a part of it?”

Nerys nods. "For most of my childhood anyway. Eventually we had to leave, it was a good life but...difficult. Every year they swore to recruit enough people to make a go of it and every year they fell short. My parents wanted something else so...we said goodbye to the aunts and uncles and left."

“It must have been hard for them to leave their siblings behind.”

“Their-...oh.” She so rarely talks about her upbringing. Usually she nests the story in terms and some lies all can understand. Everyone except Thancred and now, Haurchefant. His gaze on her is enough to coax the full truth of it. 

“No, not siblings. Us children...it was easier to call the adults that. Especially for those that...In the community as in Gelmorra long ago, there was no shame for what willing adults wanted with another. My parents loved each other and…” She hesitates again. He is a good man and she suspects it will take more than this to lose his friendship. Even telling him about how this is also her way...he won’t abandon her or hurt her like others did. 

But then, she has heard the unkind whispers about Count Edmont de Fortemps’ bastard son, the living reminder of his “failings.” Nerys has seen over and over how the rules a society operates by can seep into even the noblest of people.

Haurchefant abandons his spoon to take her hand, his long fingers lacing with hers. Warmth rises in her throat and chest, she nods but finds herself too shy to meet his gaze.

“And...they loved others as well. Those I called aunt, uncle. By their given name if they didn’t identify as male or female. Of course we called many of the adults by those titles without them necessarily being tied to our parents but...I knew that Aunt Jehanne, Uncle Josse, and Uncle Vaquelin were special to Mother and Father.”

Now she looks at him and his eyebrows are hidden under his bangs, closer to his hairline. They remain there for a moment and then smooth down, comprehension settling over his handsome features. “Ah, I understand you.”

She tugs her hand a way to pick up a spoon and dig it into the meat. Takes a bite, savoring the pepper and the spices that had coated the meat when someone had dried it. He waits for her, still looking a little surprised but there is no horror.

Nerys relaxes a little. “I’m glad I did not scandalize you.”

"It’s not unheard of in Ishgard." The shock must read plain on her face because he chuckles. "Oh? Did I just scandalize you instead?"

"No, no. I just...I was under the impression that Ishgard has...a certain set of cultural norms.”

"Because of how a bastard might be treated?" His smile slips into something more tender, more sad. She can only nod in acquiescence.

He drags his spoon through his side of the skillet. "When you swear an oath before the Fury you do not break it. If you promise her to forsake all others for your wife when she weds you...betraying that is unacceptable. And being mortal and given to mortal foibles, the nobility are more scrutinized for such acts. It is their duty to preserve the lines after all. I always found it unfair that it's the child who must deal with that stain rather than the one who broke a promise."

"It is unfair." Her hand finds his arm. 

"I was blessed to have a Father who raised me the same as his trueborn sons. He would not let me bear the weight of what he did, though he couldn't prevent others from trying."

"He seems very proud of you. Deservedly so." 

"You'll turn my head." 

"I hope your head is already aware of what proud shoulders it rests upon."

"It has an idea." He stretches luxuriantly. "Take the remainder, I am going to devise a way we might wash."

"You should eat your share." Nerys pushes the skillet closer to him.

"You need more, as you insist on taking point whenever we encounter a monster."

"If you truly want to make me feel secure and protected...you will give me no reason to worry over you." She looks up at him with an exaggeration of coquetry. Lashes slightly lowered as she looks up through them, pouted mouth, bosom pushed out between her arms. He chuckles and she is pleased to see some of the sorrow leave him.

"...now that is sound logic," he admits. "Give me the skillet then."

* * *

It is easier to _not_ be the focus of attention. 

A laughable sentiment from the Warrior of Light. The hero of Eorzea. Lieutenant in the Order of the Twin Adder. A Scion of the Seventh Dawn. 

Through it all, she’s focused on helping other stories find their happy endings. She prefers to be a minor character. At most perhaps the helpful witch who turns a serving girl into a princess, the fox who leads the youngest son to riches and glory.

Haurchefant tips the balance after dinner. He is the one who takes charge of drying their things, of getting her to sit by the fire so the rest of her might dry out. He finds a larger bowl hidden away and cleans it well, showing her how he can employ a bit of thaumaturgy and a quantity of snow to sterilize it.

"I know enough to be useful on trips and great fun at parties," he says. "Pray let me show off a little.”

She is washing herself, alone in the room with him upstairs, before she perceives just how well she has been managed. He defers to her so often she had forgotten how persistent he could be when he chose. And here there was no passel of knights to hold him off from coming to her aid.

He had held off when she arrived at his door after the tragedy in Ul’dah. Observed without a word as she threw herself into taking care of grief-stricken Tataru and Alphinaud. When they needed space she trained until her tempered muscles screamed and she could sleep. The pure exhaustion blocked nightmare visions of Nanamo clawing at her throat, Ilberd launching himself at them, her dear friends sacrificing themselves, and Thancred…

There are times when exhaustion is so complete and consuming that she cannot fall asleep. One of life’s little ironies. That happened on the fifth night when everyone was asleep. No one could have any use for her other than to tell her to go back to bed. 

The battlements were empty save the sentries who nodded to her but said nothing. She had learned already that they would not agree to give their duties over to her. To protect Camp Dragonhead was a calling they cherished. Instead she found a solitary space and watched the stars over the empty highlands. 

She hadn't realised she was crying until Haurchefant knelt by her. The jacket he wrapped about was a shock of warmth and scent–leather and cloth and sandalwood. He wiped her cheeks and then it was so easy to press her face to his shirt and cry out sharp, broken sobs that tore at her as they emerged. The frigid air burned her lungs but she could not stop gasping it in.

He took care of her. Made her feelings and her grief the only thing worth tending to. If she hasn't been so far gone she might have tried to argue or change the subject.

She thinks he wouldn't have allowed it.

Nerys is as washed as she will be. She pulls the nearly dry leggings back on. The tunic she leaves by the fire. Her breastband is utilitarian enough to pass for a shirt in warmer climes. “Haurchefant?”

“Yes?” His voice drifts down.

"I'm going to slip into bed now, I won't look when you wash."

When he comes down the stairs, he is stripping off his tunic and she is peeling back the bedthings (the thin blanket, his bedroll and hers.) His eyes flicker over her shoulders before he moves towards the bowl. A touch sets the water steaming again. 

"You don't want to watch, my dear? After I got us trapped in a storm specifically for this purpose?"

"Ha. I'm only looking after your virtue." He is teasing but it still prickles something inside her.

Haurchefant cups the water and splashes it over his face, the droplets trailing down his sculpted chest and arms. This is a man made of tight muscle, utterly gorgeous in the firelight as it paints red and yellow over him.

"Have you seen it then?" His smile is wide "I lost it sometime ago and I have wondered what it is up to."

"Safe." Her voice comes out hoarse. She clears her throat. "I'm told virtue enjoys a quiet little cottage at the edge of the woods."

"Then we will not disturb it. I am sure we can manage without it."

He takes up the washcloth set aside for his use and Nerys lies down, staring up at the ceiling. It is infinitely less tantalizing.

...Why is she worried about being tantalized? Why does she assume all his teasing has nothing behind it? If she moves…

If she moves, he will not turn her down. More than that–maybe he wants her to move.

 _Or I am about to subject him to a night in bed with someone who made an unwanted attempt at him._ She would sleep in the Chocobo stall if it came to that. If. When. If.

Haurchefant...has always treated her as his dearest friend and it is hard to parse when the dynamic shifted. She remembers the day she saw him in a new light but not when the way they both acted seemed to transform.

Water splashes. Flames flicker as he raises them to dry him faster. Nerys is at once aware of her thick hair, how it needs a wash and not a wetting before confinement in a messy braid. At least they will be at the same level of hygiene--cleaner than before but not _clean._

She startles when he comes into view, looking down at her. His noble profile is thrown into high relief at this angle and from the firelight. 

"Yes?" Her heart stutters, failing to find a rhythm. 

"You became so quiet, I wondered if you were asleep."

“Not yet.” She makes a decision to call his bluff but also grant him an easy escape. Pulls back the covers some to show the space he could take up. “It’s cold still.”

Something wars in his gaze as he looks down at her. Then his mouth curves into a smile. "May I help with that?"

"I…" she swallows. "Was hoping you might."

She makes room for him, pushing the blankets further back. He is delicious against her and his skin touching hers relieves an ache she didn't know existed. When her hands slide over his arms and chest, he mirrors her. No aristocrat's touch–she can feel his knight's calluses drag over her.

His hand slides along her ribcage, teasing upward but never going further. Her throat vibrates with a noise between frustration and need. 

"I have wanted this since the moment I saw you," he murmurs against her neck. "You came through my door, beautiful and strong and noble and I was struck."

Nerys opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. "I...think I have wanted you since I heard you almost tore down Dragonhead to come fight by my side."

If he is upset he has desired longer than her, it shows not. Rather, he looks like she has given him a gift far more costly and rare then all he has given her. A Chocobo, a home, his family's protection-

"Oh. _Oh_ ," she whispers. "I can’t believe I...didn’t see it even with everything you did. I thought you were…" Her warm cheeks turn into a blaze. "A man who is extremely generous to his friends and tends towards flattery."

"You aren't incorrect." He positions himself above her, caging her between his forearms. This means he has paused touching her and she aches at the loss as she thrills at being contained so. 

"No?"

"I am all that. Generous, kind, an excellent friend, handsome…" he laughs. "But also. very much interested in you. In this. I apologize that I wasn’t more clear, my dear. In some part I was worried to be too forward lest you avoid me."

"I had the same fear," she admits. "I didn't want you to feel pressured."

"Then we are quite a pair." He lowers himself to kiss her and at the first touch of his lips on hers, everything in her lets go. Everything. She opens her mouth to him, burying her fingers in his silver hair to keep her anchored. 

He slips from her only to assert himself again, his mouth dragging down her throat, her collar. Kissing the swell of her breasts above the breastband. At last, blessedly his hands cup the aching flesh through the fabric.

"There," she murmurs. "Right there."

"Are these tender?" He slides the garment down and the relief courses her.

"Yes." Her grip in his hair tightens. "Please take care of them."

He shudders at the words and pierces her with a single look, keeping the contact as he lowers his mouth. "You can always count on me for that, my dear."

And then his lips close around blue-gray skin and the swollen purple nipple, one hand palming the other breast. His touch reminds her how tender the flesh became within the fabric and underwire, the kneading soothes it while drawing other need forth. She shudders, back arching into the wet heat of his mouth. 

He suckles at her, a low noise rumbling in his chest and vibrating where his body slides against hers. His head raises and she thinks he might go lower now. Instead he captures the other breast in his mouth, hand deftly switching places.

She swears under her breath, eyes closed against the sensation.

"Not the setting I had hoped for," he says against her breast. "But I still plan on savoring this."

"And when-" Nerys gasps as his teeth scrape against her. "Do I get to return the favor?"

He smirks and he wears it as well as he does all other expressions. "Maybe, if you're good."

She groans, head falling back into the mattress. At the touch of his mouth on her stomach she sits back up but he replaces his tongue with his hand, the flat of his palm splayed against her core. Urging her back to a prone position. 

"Cruel," she says, as if she hasn't faced foes that pushed all her strength and cunning. As if she didn’t want to obey his every command if it meant more sensation and care.

"I've only begun." And he eases down the leggings, the cool air kissing and goosepimpling her flesh. His hands stroke and sooth, rubbing warmth into the limbs. A kiss on the inside of her knee. A nuzzle of his handsome nose against her thigh. 

When he eases down her smallclothes, his touch is like a firebrand to her skin. Her entire body alights with the sensation of the fabric whispering against her. Down her legs, past her ankles, lost somewhere to the room. 

"Beautiful." He declares, and the world shifts as he moves his solid shoulders under her legs. Nerys clutches at the mattress and finds no purchase, grips the headboard instead. 

He laps at her, tongue sliding over her folds, inside of her, everywhere but the nub begging for attention. Each pad of each finger presses into her solid thigh, holding her in place as she squirms. 

“You are exquisite,” he says. She presses a hand to her face, covering her darkened cheeks. "Ah ah, no hiding. Let me look at you and grip the headboard again please."

She anchors herself again. Cranes her neck so she meets his eyes while his tongue teases her. Pleading noises spill from her because words have no shape or meaning.

"Thank you," he says and swirls his tongue around her clit. 

He builds the pressure in her, keeping a tight grip as her legs twist and buckle inwards. As ruthless now as he was teasing before. Driving her further and further. Her calf muscles tighten and she arches up into him.

Quiet as she is in many situations, her mind never is. It is a constant chatter of thoughts and concerns, taking in every angle of every situation. Haurchefant pulls every last piece of focus to him and the points of contact between them. Any thought is banished with the steady swipe of his tongue, the pinpoint heat of fingertips into her skin. 

Her eyes are shut tight. She gasps and gasps and gasps, each crashing and interrupting the next as she climaxes. She is weightless. She is falling. Her body tremors in his grip and he continues her through it, never pulling his warmth from her.

When he settles her down on the bed it's like easing from the stars to lie on a cloud. There is no sound in this space except their breathing and the crackle of fire.

If she had only known his good this was, how right this felt. She might have saved them both the wait weeks ago. 

Haurchefant is the first to break the silence. "That exceeded even my wildest dreams."

She huffs out a laugh. "I've not attended to you yet."

"Oh my dear." He pulls himself up and cups her cheek. "I could be a very happy man just from serving you like this."

She turns her mouth into his palm, kissing the broad plane there. He has covered her in kisses, she will do no less for him. Her mouth follows up his arm, lingering on his shoulder. Opens on his throat, thrilling in the way he tips his head back. It smells of sandalwood, the way his jacket had that night.

Nerys will never get enough of putting her hands in his silky hair. She does it again now, bringing her lips to his. He tastes of her.

At the slide of her tongue over his, his arms tighten around her. Without needing an invitation, her legs open. She spreads and arches to meet the supple leather of his leggings and the hard bulge beneath them.

He groans. "Nerys-"

"Please." She says and watches the word hit him. It reveals a sweet helplessness, as if denying her would cause him pain. 

"Please," she says again. "I want you."

"Gladly." He moves to unlace himself but she is faster, eager to have him naked atop her. His chuckle rumbles through her and he kisses her forehead.

The gentle touch stops her. She can't explain why his sweetness threatens to overwhelm her.

"Okay?" His mouth touches the tip of her pointed ear.

"Okay." She pushes his leggings down, grateful when he moves to accommodate her. Those gone, her fingers slide beneath the band of his smallclothes.

She could not wait to divest him of the leggings. This though, this she savors as she eases them off. Watches the reveal of a thick, long cock, hard and eager for her. He is larger than she guessed.

When the smalls are around his upper thighs she looks up at him. He smiles and moves to help slip those off entirely. That's when she strikes, gripping his hips in place and stooping to catch him in her mouth.

Haurchefant's hands dig into her shoulders as he cries aloud. He chased her pleasure, ruthless as she had ever seen him on a battlefield. Now she does the same. He gasps above her. Exclaims in pleasure when she hollows her cheeks.

"Nerys-wait-," he gasps, locking his grip on her. They both know she could break his hold like it is air but the command shivers through her core.

"I won't last long like this," he says. Each word trembles a little less. 

She smirks around him.

He returns the look. "If I'm going to keep you warm, a different position is required."

She releases him with a final teasing lick to his crown. Heat builds when he gives a warning squeeze. "Oh? Is that what this is? Conserving body heat?"

"Certainly." He nips the side of her neck. "Everything else is a delicious bonus."

She swears under her breath. Coming from anyone else she might be insulted. But she hears the teasing in his voice, and the raw pleasure. 

"As my lord wishes." She says, letting him guide her back against the mattress. 

Her lord's lashes half shutter, taking on the sight of her laid out before him. As it goes on she instinctively moves her hands to block such a full perusal. 

"Ah ah ah," he guides her wrists above her head, to where she had gripped while he wrung the first orgasm out of her. “These will stay here until I say otherwise.”

Haurchefant kisses her again. Soft at first, then whatever passion he’s held back is untethered. His lips drink in her mouth, her throat. His teeth nip her earlobe when he spreads her legs again. Scrape across her pulse when he slides two fingers into her. Her legs spasm and she wants to clutch at him. Instead she grips the headboard until the wood bites into her flesh. 

A third finger slides in and she gasps aloud, hips rocking in search of more and more. When his thumb comes down on her clitoris she babbles. "Please. Please I need you. Please."

All his fingers save his thumb withdraw and he nuzzles her throat. "Put your arms around me."

 _Finally_. Her arms wrap about his broad, muscled back. Nerys starts this kiss, pouring all her need into it. He has her balanced on a knife’s edge, he needs to know that. Must know it.

He rocks the head of his cock against her entrance as his thumb circles her. Haurchefant may be one of the thickest she's taken and he is right to prepare her but Twelve above she wants him she wants him she-

His cock begins to fill her. Slow, bit by bit, and then all at once till they are flush against each other. His skin burns against hers. Her legs wrap around him, eagar for his heat and the stretch of him.

When he moves, her hips buck after him as he withdraws all of himself. The cry she makes when he sinks back in...if she had thought to play at indifference to tease him, that is no longer an option.

Haurchefant kisses her with the same heated fervor. Such contrast to the slow, rhythmic movements of his cock into her. It's enough to have her beg again. "More, I need more."

"Everything." He murmurs into her ear. "I will give you everything I have."

The pace quickens and she clenches her core and hips to keep meeting him. His thumb is a constant pressure against her, building up the wave already seeking to crash into her. His ragged encouragements become groans, she buries her face in his shoulder. He is her only anchor in this torrent and she clutches to him, her nails digging into flesh.

The surge rips through her and she gasps his name, the last syllable rising to a cry. He thrusts into her through it and then captures her mouth, kissing her hard as he releases into her. Breathing her name like a prayer as they cling to each other.

* * *

How much time passes? Nerys is unable to move or speak. Her entire body is limp, trembling with faint aftershocks. There will never be a reason for her to move again. Leave her here, languid and sated.

A hand brushes hair out of her face. Haurchefant lifts his head from her shoulder. His blue eyes search her, and she smiles.

He smiles back. His lips drift to her forehead. To each eyelid, soft as a butterfly. The tip of her nose. At last her own lips, taking his time there. She finds the energy to return the slow langor of his mouth.

"It's rather warm in here now," he murmurs.

"Mm." It turns out her weightless arms are still wrapped tight about him. She lifts one hand to stroke over his arm. "Stay. Keep me warm."

"Gladly." He pulls the few blankets around them. When he slides out she reaches for him and he is quick to tuck her back into his embrace.

 _Everything._ He had said. _I will give you everything I have._

He has already given her so much. And now this...she won't let go of this. Not any of it. "We're going to have to figure out a few things."

Haurchefant is too open to her now to hide the concern in his eyes. "Yes?"

"Yes," she says. "Mainly the part where you come to the manor house more often in the evenings."

He relaxes. "For you? I'll do whatever I am able."

"Good," she smiles. "I wouldn't want you to be cold at night anymore."

"Ah my dear," he sighs. "It is your comfort I attend to, not mine."

"That works out because I will be attending to your comfort and not mine."

He laughs. "We really are quite a pair."

Nerys smiles. "I would not have it any other way."


End file.
